


We are the Hunters, They are the Foxes

by NarryEm



Series: 1989 Inspired songfics [12]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Bondage, Crimes & Criminals, Explicit Sexual Content, Extremely Dubious Consent, Kidnapping, M/M, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Public Sex, Roof Sex, Sexual Coercion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-02
Updated: 2015-04-02
Packaged: 2018-03-20 12:05:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3649698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NarryEm/pseuds/NarryEm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry is a freelance journalist, quite known for his talent with a camera despite his young age.  When his boss sends him out to sniff out the social elite who is allegedly notorious in the underground black market he ends up being the target himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We are the Hunters, They are the Foxes

**Author's Note:**

> Title adopted from _”I Know Places”_ by Taylor Swift.
> 
> This is loosely based upon/inspired by _You’re the Loveprize in Viewfinder_. This is set in Canada, by the way, because I live here.  
>  Like it says in the tags, the first smut scene is dub-con at best and has non-consensual drug use so if that ain’t your thing please leave now. Later on, there’s also coerced sex scenes so, again, please leave if you don't like this either. Both are common themes in yaoi much to my dismay. I'm following some of the key plot points the the manga hence the above. I do have a few lines from the manga itself, which I do not own.  
> Zayn is in the story because I started this story in early March so yeah, deal with it. Plus, Zayn will always have a special place in my heart even though he’s going solo (R&B/rap if the rumours are true) because his happiness matters more than the group as a whole. 
> 
> The fact that ao3 has a tag for roof sex cracked me up when I saw that. Just wow.

“Why me?” Harry whinges. Instead of sympathy or shifty eyes, he is met with cold, level green stare.

“Because you are the best shot we got and also the most inconspicuous,” Nick explains with a roll of his eyes. “Who would imagine that _Macleans_ would send out a teenager to do such a dangerous work, yeah?”

Harry pouts. “It’s not ‘cause I’m disposable, is it? C’mon, didn’t you once call me a little brother you never had the chance to boss around?”

“Which means that I trust you loads more than the kiss-asses around. Don’t forget that I’m one of the chief editors in the company, Harold. If you can prove that Niall Horan is, in fact, funding and facilitating the gun black market as well as some other stuff in the so-called ‘underground world’, you will be promoted as a contracted photographer-slash-journalist here. Hell, you might even get to do the fashion shoots like you always dreamed.”

For a moment, Harry dreams of being on the set for _Marie Claire_ , shooting with Jennifer Lawrence or Torrance Coombs, calling out various instructions and later scoring their number so that they can stay in touch.

“Fine,” Harry grouses. “But I want to be paid first just in case they find me out and ditch my body into the Fraser River, destined to float along the sediments for eternity.”

“Drama queen,” Nick comments affectionately. “I’ll call them up to arrange a deposit then.”

 

 

-

 

 

Harry is sitting in a restaurant near the Four Seasons Resort, his telescopic camera lens practically pressed to the window. The servers keep giving him funny looks but he ignores them for the most part. (If he winks back at the cute server with lavender/blue hair, well, he’s only human.) He has been watching rich prat after rich prat leave the resort for over thirty minutes but so far, he hasn’t seen any of them carry suspicious items.

“Why did I ever choose this life?” he mutters as he readjusts the focus on the camera and shifts his weight. The restaurant is due to close in another half an hour and he would very much love to go home and watch the newest episode of _Reign_ and drool all over Bash and Condé, then argue with Liam over the phone why Catherine is awesome.

Something catches his eye in the viewfinder and his attention snaps back to the scene across the street. A flash of blond hair swarmed by other people is all he can see and from the blurry candids that Nick has shown him, he knows that it has got to be Niall Horan. For a moment, he ponders the reasons why an Irishman would choose to move all the way to Canada. Surely he’ll have better deals and connections back in Ireland?

That’s the furthest he gets to in his thoughts. A pair of strong hands grip his shoulders and another knock the camera out of his hands. Yet another hand appears in his peripherals briefly before something wet and soft is pressed to his nose. It smells disgustingly sweet so he holds his breath out of reflex but he knows that it’s too late since he gasped from shock when the cloth was first pressed to his nose and mouth. His fingers start to feel numb and it’s followed by his vision greying out in the edges until eventually, the black swallows everything.

 

 

-

 

 

Harry gasps and coughs, trying to eject all foul smell and taste from his mouth and lungs. Who even uses chloroform in this day and age?

He raises his arm to wipe his mouth, only to discover that both of his arms have been tied up. In fact, his arms and legs are handcuffed to four different corners, rendering him helpless in a spread-eagle position. He strains to look down and he appears that he is strapped down to a rather plush bed and, crap, what the hell is that weird contraption coiled around his groin?

“Took you a while,” a thickly Irish-accented voice floats over. He must be still feeling the after effects of the drug because it takes a while for his eyes to identify a blobby figure as a human and the voice sounds echoed and muffled. Niall Horan.

“Bastard,” he croaks, the word dying out in a series of coughs.

“Try harder, I’ve been called worse,” Niall sneers. He is fully clothed in a suit, probably something ridiculously priced like Armani. The pattern of his tie screams rich filth. “A bit young to be going on undercover, ain’t ya Mr. Investigative Reporter?”

Harry only glares at him. He hates it when ageist jerks bring up his age. “What’s it to ya?”

“Oh, nothing. Just makes your futile resistance cuter, really.”

Niall’s hand is resting on his knee and Harry gulps as the fingertips splay out to idly caress it. “Did you really weigh in all the risks and benefits before you took the job? My guys searched through your stuff but we couldn’t find anything to indicate who you work for. Makes our job easier, actually, since you probably don’t have a company who will be responsible should you find yourself at an unfavourable situation.”

“If you’re gonna kill me, just kill me already,” Harry spits out. Panic starts to crawl inside his veins as Niall’s hand creeps up the inside of his thigh. He hates that he is fully naked except for the leather things wrapped around various parts of his body. Just what does Niall want with him?

“You’re pretty feisty for a Canadian fellow,” Niall remarks. “What happened to the friendly neighbours up north image, mate?” Callused fingertips brush the crease next to his dick and he can’t suppress the moan that bubbles up.

A hand comes up and Harry sees that Niall is holding a small bottle. Niall lifts the hand on his thigh and covers Harry’s mouth. Harry squirms but he has no choice to breathe in the scent that is coming from the bottle. It makes him heady and something hot and tingly travels straight down to his dick.

“You despicable old geezer!” Harry yells, twisting his face away from what has to be an aphrodisiac.

“Hush,” Niall mutters. He puts the bottle down somewhere and grips Harry’s jaw with one hand, the other on his shoulder to keep him down. “I’m teaching you a lesson so that you don’t try to meddle in grown-ups’ affair in the future, twat. We’ll both be getting orgasms out of this so it’s a win-win situation.”

Harry hates how his body has heated up, all the heat coiling in his lower belly. There’s no way that Niall can miss the way that Harry’s cock is swelling. When Niall goes to cup his balls, Harry almost lets out a relieved sigh. Instead of wanking him, however, Niall tightens the cock ring-like device even tighter around Harry’s dick.

“No, pl—” Harry cuts himself off. There’s no way that he is going to beg for release.

“I like it when they struggle and resist,” Niall chuckles. He touches the slit on Harry’s dick and presses in slightly. Harry has to bite down on his lip so that he won’t cry out from just how good that feels. Niall’s fingers slide down and gently rubs at the veins that run up the underside of Harry’s cock. He scoots down and licks up a dribble of precome from the side of Harry’s cock.

The sound that Harry lets out is possibly not human, but Harry won’t admit to it. Niall continues his torturous actions, fingers teasing all the sensitive spots on Harry’s erection and occasionally giving him fleeting licks. As embarrassing as it is to admit it, Harry would have come already if not for the damned restraints on his dick (not to mention other parts of his body). What he really wants right now is to be able to jerk himself off for some much-needed release out of this pervert's sight.

Niall reaches behind with his hand and when he brings it back around, Harry can see the fingers glistening with some sort of liquid. He has just realised that it must be some lubricant when Niall circles his fingertips around Harry’s hole before pushing in with a finger. Whatever drug is circulating in Harry’s bloodstream must be making him compliant because his body accepts the finger easily even though it has been a while since he last bottomed. When Niall’s grazes his prostate, Harry has to bite down on his lower lip so that he won’t moan loudly. He’s not going to give this bastard the satisfaction.

“You’re still resisting?” Niall all but purrs. He slips in another finger and Harry’s tries his best to twist away from the sensation. The scissoring motion feels too good and Harry only glowers at Niall in lieu of a proper reply.

“Young meddling kids like you need to be trained,” Niall mutters, yet another finger breaching Harry’s hole. He curls them, ramming the tips into Harry’s prostate. Niall’s lips twitch up into a sinister smile when Harry moans. “And I’ve learned from many past experiences that people learn best with their bodies. It’s same everywhere, be it Ireland, Canada, or some remote private island in the middle of the Atlantic. Men, especially, are easy to control when you know what weak points to look for.”

The tight bind around Harry’s cock loosens and Harry has to hold back a scream as he comes harder than he ever has in his life. Streaks of come land on his stomach and it’s a bit gross. He wants to clean up but he also wants something else. He _needs_ more. _It’s only the drug,_ he tells himself. _Hell, this is practically rape. Bastard!_

“You don’t honestly think I’m done with you, do ya?” Niall asks. Harry whips his head away from Niall. With a sigh, Niall grips his chin to jerk his face back around, forcing their eyes to meet. “We have the entire night ahead of us and don’t think that you’ll be getting off the hook easily, Styles.”

Something pale flashes in the corner of Harry’s vision and he sees that Niall is dipping his fingers into the small puddle of come on his stomach (eww, gross). He swirls his fingers a couple times languidly before he brings it up to his mouth and sucks off the liquid, practically fellating his own fingers.

“Jealous?” Niall smirks. A drop of come rest on the tip of Niall’s tongue and in Harry’s drug-hazy mind, it’s a turn-on. Niall makes a big show of swallowing and crouches over Harry’s bound body. “I already sucked you off before. We’re not going to go further until you ask nicely like the good boy you are.”

Harry grits his teeth. Shaking his head at the silence, Niall shoves two of his fingers into Harry’s hole without a warning. It doesn’t hurt, not at all, but it still draws out a loud gasp from Harry. His skin feels hot all over and it’s like something soft and sparking with electricity is crawling along every square inch of his body. The dizzying sensations lessen, just barely, only in places that Niall is touching. Harry can only surmise that this is the effects of the drug.

“I love stubborn kids,” Niall murmurs, almost too quietly for Harry to catch it. “Makes the even more—ah, how shall I put it?—more worthwhile of my time. I’m a busy man after all, Mr. Styles.”

Harry manages to suppress his moans long enough to spit out: “Fuck off.” He’s not going to give this scum the satisfaction of seeing his willpower crumble like pastries.

“Cute,” Niall muses. Harry sighs when Niall’s fingers leave him. All the stimulation has left his cock hard and drooling precome on his belly and it’s maddening because there’s nothing he can do to relieve himself.

Niall leans in and Harry tries his best to twist his face away so that Niall’s lips won’t reach him. In his current position, however, escape is next to impossible and he can taste the faint tang of cigarettes on Niall’s lips. Niall is too good at everything related to sex, it turns out. There’s no give to the way Niall’s lips attack Harry’s. Embarrassingly loud moans continue to spill out of Harry’s lips as Niall nibbles on his lower lip and then suckles on it in a rhythmic way. All this while, Niall’s fingers have been lightly teasing the skin around his groin, sometimes grazing his balls.

“Wh-what d’you gain from this?” Harry pants out, eyes squeezed shut and hands clenched tightly into fists.

“I told you,” Niall sighs, exasperation clear in his voice, “orgasms and an annoying kid off my back. Don’t tell me that ya aren’t enjoying this.”

Well, yes; there’s no way that Harry is going to admit to it, though.

Niall’s body warmth leaves him for a moment, and curiosity drives Harry to open his eyes. The lights have grown dimmer and he can barely make out the shape of Niall off to the side. He seems to be holding a couple packets of condoms. When Niall knee-walks back to Harry, heat flashes spark down Harry’s back in poorly concealed anticipation. Niall has pulled his pants down just enough for his cock to be free and even that looks sexy on him for some bizarre reason.

“Your body is more honest than that pretty mouth of yours,” Niall muses, a roughened thumb brushing the cupid’s bow of Harry’s lip. Harry watches Niall roll the condom onto himself through hooded eyes. The way Niall’s fingers glisten with lube is almost hypnotic and he can feel the chemicals burn in his bloodstream, fading out and flaring up in a slow lull.

“I really wanted to break ya down,” Niall comments as he rubs the tip of his cock around Harry’s rim, the movement making slick sounds that echo in the semi-darkness of the room. “We still have the entire night ahead of us, so I guess that we shall see.”

“Go to hell,” Harry spits out, but half of it is lost in a drawn out whimper when the blunt head of Niall’s dick pushes in. The sensation swallows him whole, or at least that’s what it feels like to Harry for now. The fires burn bright in him and the chains jingle as Harry strains to wrap his legs around Niall’s waist out of reflex. (He chastises himself in his head a moment later. Fucking muscle memory.)

“Oh,” Niall sneers, and there’s nothing Harry wants more than to slap that smug look off his face. Okay, maybe he wants to be free of the shackles more but whatever. “Have I managed to catch a virgin this time?”

Harry’s cheeks flare up. “Shut up. It’s none of your business.” There is no way that Harry is divulging his sexual history to a stranger with sadistic tendencies.

Niall rams in, balls deep and Harry has to bite down on his lip again. He must have bitten down too hard since he can taste a bit of blood in his mouth.

“Aww, pretty boy’s got his fill already?’ Niall taunts. He draws out slowly, ridges on his cock rubbing on Harry’s walls deliciously, before he thrusts inside with so much force that Harry’s head knocks on the headboard of the bed. “I thought that you young ‘uns could go at it like bunnies. Think I could go for five rounds at once, back when I was ‘round your age. Is this what virtual reality has done to the virility of youths these days?”

It’s hard to tune out Niall’s jabs—physical and verbal—when Niall knows how to push all the buttons. Harry hates himself for the small whimper that he lets out when Niall stops moving, fully sheathed inside of Harry, and smirks down at him. “Come on. There’s a reason why I didn’t gag ya.”

Harry sputters. “You’re so full of yourself, aren’t you?”

“I’d say,” Niall grinds his hips in a circular motion, right into Harry’s prostate, “that you’re the one who’s full of me but that’s only a matter of opinion.”

“Fuck off,” Harry grits out. Or tries to. It’s hard to speak his mind when he does indeed have a cock inside of him and the owner is good at doing him up.

Niall stops even the slow grind and Harry’s hips buck up. He’s mad now; at his traitorous body, Nick for assigning him to this situation, and the fact that he really wants Niall to fuck him to oblivion. Or into the mattress, that works too.

So he swallows his pride and mumbles, “Harder.”

The slightest hint of smirk grows into a grin on Niall’s face. “Pardon?”

“Do me harder, bastard,” Harry repeats a bit more loudly.

Niall pulls out, at which Harry moans like a needy bitch in heat. “Nope.”

Instead, he produces a dildo out of nowhere and shoves it into Harry’s hole. It has a vibrating function as well, it turns out. Harry can’t think straight now that Niall has tightened the cock ring around him again and the tip of the vibrator is snug against Harry’s prostate.

“Please!” Harry cries out. There are tears welling up from the damned overstimulation and all his dignity has been thrown out the window since he was caught anyway.

A gush of air rushes out of his lungs in relief when the plastic toy leaves his hole, replaced by something warmer and satisfying. Niall is thrusting into him fast and out of a sound rhythm. His slim fingers are gripping bruises into the flesh around Harry’s hipbones and it’s strangely pleasing. There’s a burst of hotness and even without the sensation of something wet filling him up, he knows that Niall just came.

“Let me come, too,” Harry groans, fingers clawing at the sheets underneath. “Please?” He knows that his kitten face is undefeated, and the effect has got to be amplified with the tears in his lashes and whatnot.

“Fuck,” Niall breathes into the crook of Harry’s neck. He takes the thing off Harry’s sock and rubs his thumb on the slit of Harry’s dick, making him come instantly.

Niall sits up abruptly and pulls out. He pulls up his pants and does up the belt quickly. “I’ve some unfinished business. Don’t think that I won’t be coming back, little dove.”

And with a filthy smirk, Niall leaves the room. There’s come drying on Harry’s stomach and the drugs are still burning in his veins. With a sigh, he wills himself to sleep.

 

 

-

 

 

Niall wasn’t lying about his return or the promise to teach him thoroughly throughout the night. The Irishman comes back around one in the morning and Harry is woken rather rudely when Niall’s fingers poke at his prostate. He then proceeds to fuck him halfway to the stars for a good hour or two. Harry doesn’t get much rest in-between the rounds and come morning, Harry is exhausted.

“You’re free to go,” Niall smirks as he walks into the room. He is dressed in a fresh suit, this time silvery grey with a patterned shirt minus a tie. “Hope you learned your lesson.

He fishes out a key from his breast pocket and unlocks the handcuffs. Harry rubs at the sore spots around his wrists and ankles. They aren’t bruised, per se, just reddened and sensitive to touch. There’s even clean clothes laid out for him, a plaid button down and skinny jeans.

“I’ll get my scoop yet,” Harry avows.

Niall walks up to ruffle Harry’s hair. “Sure you will, love. I deleted all the shots you had of me mates, by the way. And I may have taken some of what you call selfies for personal reasons. The next time we see each other, I can’t guarantee your safety.”

And with that, Niall walks out of his life.

Or so Harry believed. 

 

-

 

 

“I’m glad you’re safe!” Nick exclaims as he hugs Harry tightly.

“Can’t. Breathe.”

“I thought that those underground dogs did you up,” Nick confesses after he lets go.

Harry blushes. Niall did ‘do him up’, but not in the way the Nick imagines.

“I’m fine,” he mumbles. “What’s my next assignment?”

Nick smiles. “Something less traumatizing, I hope. All you have to do is go up to Okanagan and take some tourist trap pictures. Maybe some nice scenery of the lakes or the mountains. Ooh, maybe that fancy winery hill place.

Harry pouts. “I’m not all free time, y’know?”

“Yeah right,” Nick snorts. “I’ll even throw in two nights at the Harrison hot springs for you and your best friend Liam. Speaking of, you sure that you two aren’t dating?”

“We’re not,” Harry retorts straight away. “He’s straight as a pole and practically a brother to me.”

“Uh-huh. Whatever. So you up for the job?”

Harry smirks. “Of course I am.”

 

 

-

 

 

“I never would have guessed that Nick Grimshaw had a heart,” Liam jokes as they settle into a hot spring.

“Think of this as the calm before the storm,” Harry shrugs. “He’ll probably send me after another corrupted politician within the next week. Also, feel free to eat all the stupidly expensive food since he’s lent me the company credit card.”

Liam smiles, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “Is that why you had smoked salmon with English muffin for breakfast today?”

“Is there any other reason.”

Liam goes to ramble about this girl that he’s sort of been seeing and Harry just closes his eyes and makes appropriate responses from time to time. Since that disastrous attempt at what could have been a scoop to be all over Canada, he ended up coming back with a sore behind and bruised ego. Maybe some other and less consequential assignments will help restore his morale.

“Is this full?” asks a strangely familiar voice. No way.

Harry opens his eyes to see bright blue eyes that pierce straight into Harry’s and blond hair.

Liam, bless his gentle soul, replies with a no before Harry has the chance to open his mouth. Niall is accompanied by a smaller bloke with light brown hair with equally piercing blue eyes. Maybe Harry is imagining it but he sees the brunet glare at him with malice in his eyes.

“What are you doing here?” Harry asks, foregoing the pleasantries.

“Can’t a bloke enjoy some downtime without being questioned?” Niall asks, a teasing smile on his lips. Nope, Harry refuses to buy into the innocent act. “I am only human after all.”

Harry scoffs. “Hardly, not after what you’ve done. I will dig up the truth for the world to see. Just you wait.”

Liam nudges his knee underwater and when Harry turns to look at him, he gives him a look as if to say, ‘ _is that the guy who, y’know . . . ?_ ” Harry nods slightly. Liam’s first response is to go bright red from his hairline down to his neck.

“Your reputation precedes you. Typical,” Niall’s friend chirps.

Harry feels his own face heat up. “You told others about what happened?”

Niall smiles angelically. “Everyone who works for me knew the gist of it. I would like to say that it’s not every day that some brat thinks to snap a few pictures of me with the hopes to make it big in the news world but that would be a big fat lie. Someone had to do the kidnapping and clean-up after the kidnapping to make sure that no one would spill and I don’t do the dirty work myself.”

Harry snorts. “So sexual assault isn’t dirty work?” He regrets wording his snide remark when Niall’s blue gaze pierces through him, raising goose bumps all over his body.

“You submitted in the end, didn’t you? It ain’t a light word to use. Kids these days.” Niall’s friend laughs and Harry really wants to punch them both in the face and leave Harrison right away. “And be careful what you wear ‘round here. Those yellow shorts really leave nothing to the imagination, especially now that I’ve seen all of that sumptuous body.” Niall winks.

Harry mimes throwing up. “Who even says the word sumptuous now? Your real age is showing, Horan.”

“Age is but a number, kiddo. It ain’t nothing to me,” Niall replies.

Liam nudges him again, and he feels so sorry at Liam’s obvious discomfit. “We need to go. We’re leaving early tomorrow morning, aren’t we?” Liam nods.

“I’ll see you around, Harry.”

Harry stomps right out. As he takes a shower back in his room, he can’t help but think that Niall’s words sounded like a promise.

 

 

-

 

 

“I hate you,” Harry growls into the Bluetooth.

He can _hear_ Nick grinning. “Hazard pay plus a small percentage of the commission, remember?”

“Which is why I’m risking my balls,” Harry grumbles.

Case in point, he is dangling on a rope and harness from the roof of some business hotel in Delta. His current target is the guy who has been smuggling marijuana and harder drugs into Vancouver and shipping it out to other countries from here. He’s got his best camera for a night-time shot—Nikon D3300—and this better pay off. It’s been windy tonight and he just wants this over with.  The harness isn't made with the finest materials and it keeps digging in to areas too close to Harry's balls for his comfort.

It must have been maybe two hours of dangling before he gets his golden shot and tugs at the rope to signal for Liam to pull him up. He had to coax Liam into helping out with the promise of repaying the favour in the near future. It’s still unnerving because the ropes wobble and Harry shakes his head at the thought of falling down about five stories.  He lets out a relieved sigh once he is safely back on the roof.

“Evenin’,” someone who is not Liam greets him.

It’s Niall.

“Where’s Liam?” Harry shoves at Niall the instant that he is on solid ground again.

“Unharmed, if that’s what you’re worried about. We had a nice little chat before I sent him home.”

“Stop turning up in my life,” Harry grouses. He starts to take the harness off and fumbles with it like an idiot. Strong hands cover his own and breath hitches in Harry’s throat when Niall’s body presses up against his back snugly.

“But you’re so much fun to play with, darlin’,” Niall plays up his accent and Harry would be lying if he said that it didn’t have a single effect on him.

“I am _not_ your plaything,” Harry growls.

“Cute,” Niall purrs, his lips brushing the tip of Harry’s ear.

Harry is nearly helpless as Niall grips his forearms and twirl him around so that they are face-to-face. Niall’s has got several days’ worth of growth on his chin and cheeks and that’s just adds ruggedness to Niall’s look. He is still dressed in an impeccable designer suit so the stubble makes him look like a proper mafia dude.

“Piss off,” Harry tries again.

“You’re really my type, that is if I bothered to pursue a relationship,” Niall continues on as though Harry hadn’t spoken.

“Hey, stop that!” Harry yelps when Niall’s cool fingers slip underneath his Henley shirt and lightly massages his hips. It’s not exactly unpleasant, but the unexpected bouts of pleasure that Niall’s touch brings him make his hackles rise.

“Cute,” Niall repeats. His fingers traipse up, only to pinch one of Harry’s nipples. Niall’s lips are now skimming along the exposed side of Harry’s neck.

Just as Niall’s lips reach the juncture of his shoulder and neck, Harry rams his head backwards and smiles at the resounding _thwack_.

“Pervert, you do realize that you’re old enough to be my father?” Harry taunts.

Niall laughs as he touches the reddening spot on his chin with his fingertips gingerly. “Haven’t I mentioned that I love it when they fight back? Besides, I’m not nearly old enough to have fathered a brat your age.” He cups Harry’s cheeks and holds him steady. “I was gonna go easy on ya but you changed my mind.”

The kiss is rough and unforgiving, exactly as Harry remembers Niall. Not that he’s thought about what happened that night. Never. Niall's sure, skilled hands travel to unzip Harry’s trousers one-handed and grips Harry’s half-hard cock to give it teasing strokes.

“N-no!” Harry gasps. The roughened texture of Niall’s fingers feels exceptionally good on his cock but they _are_ on a rooftop where any poor unsuspecting soul can waltz in.

“’S supposed to be arousing, getting down and dirty in a public space,” Niall whispers into his ear, voice gone low and husky. “Something about fear and adrenaline kicking in. I think it’s quite true in this case, won’t you?” He squeezes Harry’s erection to emphasize his point and a strangled moan escapes Harry’s mouth.

Another hand dips into the back of Harry’s jeans—he’s never wearing those stretchy jeggings ever again—and rubs his dry fingers against Harry’s hole. “You’re twitching here already,” Niall points out as he taps around Harry’s entrance.

“Then do something about it,” Harry grits out.

Soft laughter rings in Harry’s ear as Niall withdraws his hand to doff Harry’s pants. His fingers return suspiciously wet and sticky to be just from spit.

“You carry lube around with you?” Harry can’t keep his voice from sounding grossed out.

“It’s better to not need but have something than it is to need something and not have it prepared. Besides, I knew that you would be there. That fancy title of mine didn’t just fall into my lap.”

A witty retort is on the tip of Harry’s tongue, but it’s hard to sass Niall when his fingers are working magic inside of him. It’s only been minutes but Niall’s touches have made his body crave more. He’s never known himself to be this lewd and it’s almost scary just how well Niall can manipulate him this way.

“Hurry,” Harry manages to choke out when Niall’s fingers leave him. There’s a tearing sound and Niall presses him right up against the ledge of the roof.

“Impatient, ain’t ya? I like it, though.” Niall licks up the vein on the side of Harry’s neck and Harry shivers at the double sensation of it and Niall entering him.

He doesn’t last long, which is more than a bit humiliating. He blames the whole adrenaline thing, which is only compounded by Niall’s age and experience that comes with it. Niall doesn’t seem to be halfway close to being finished when Harry comes untouched, although his breathing is more harsh and irregular as it hits the shell of Harry’s ear.

“Teenagers,” Niall grunts.

"Haven't been for a few years," Harry retorts.  He's rather proud of himself for remaining coherent enough to shoot back a pointless remark.

Niall's response is to flip Harry around and resume his brutal pace. Harry screams at the bombardment of sensations and his cock starts to twitch, trying to get hard again. When Niall’s fingers curl around it, Harry’s hips jerk forwards and back, lost as to what he wants.

“Just relax,” Niall croons, nipping along Harry’s jawline. “It’s much easier that way.”

A part of Harry’s mind raises the flag at the sentiment but it’s quickly washed out when Niall gives a particularly sharp thrust. Several minutes flow in that manner and to Harry’s own disbelief, he’s close to another orgasm.

“Ni-Niall,” he stutters.

“I got ya,” Niall grips Harry’s face to kiss him roughly as he hastens his hand on Harry’s dick. They must come at around the same time, or so Harry surmises from the hitch in Niall’s breath and the way his hips freeze in place.

Once Harry is back to the right state of mind, he realizes that some of his come is on his shirt. “Niall!” he complains. “I can’t go back to my apartment looking like this. Liam’s gonna know that something happened.”

Niall, on the other hand, doesn’t even have a hair out of place. He adjusts the lapels on his stupidly hot blazer as he smirks, “Should have taken all your clothes off then.”

Harry scowls. “You didn’t exactly give me the time to!” He’s already talking to Niall’s back.

“Still your problem, not mine. I slipped in my contact info in your back pocket. It’s not my actual house, just one of my rendezvous houses for safety measures so if you need to talk to me for any reason, call the number on the card, yeah?”

“Who says that I’ll be needing to talk to the likes of you?”

Niall turns back long enough to flash him a mysterious smile. “We shall see.”

 

 

-

 

 

Harry hates that Niall turned out to be right. For some reason, Nick keeps on assigning him to crime-related cases, specifically the ones that involve knowing his way around the black market.

“Why me?” Harry pouts.

Nick gives him a stern, long-suffering look. “You have this natural talent for it. I don’t know how you’ve managed to take all these shots so far but you have and some of the qualities of your shots exceeds those of the photographers who have been working for the company for ages, like longer than the years you were alive.”

“Fine, fine,” Harry snatches up the envelope that contains his fee for the last job. “You’re lucky that I’ve got the right wits.”

“Wouldn’t trust anyone else with the current target. There are reports of him having been involved with the boat case a few months back so be careful. He’s also come up when they traced back the human trafficking, so yeah.”

 

As soon as Harry is out of Nick’s office, he shoots a quick text to Liam explaining why he won’t be going out with him and other friends. Liam sends back a sad face emoji but he also says something about understanding that Harry’s job has weird hours. The next thing he does is to call the number that Niall gave him. One of his goons picks up the phone and arranges for Harry to be picked up and delivered to Niall’s current location.

Harry sighs when the dude hangs up. It has been a few months since he and Niall first had their encounter and part of why Harry has been so successful is due to Niall’s knowledge of the underground crime lords. Niall’s careful not to sell out people who are too close to his own network but it’s still a system that works.

The driver sneers when he spots Harry and Harry remembers him from Harrison. With the way that he treats Harry, Harry can only guess that the guy only thinks of him as a random pet that has caught Niall’s fancy for the time.

“Why are you always pissy around me?” Harry asks. He’s sitting in the back but he leans forwards, hooking his chin over the seat.

“None of your business, kid,” the guy retorts. “You’re just a moving part in Niall’s life anyway. Sooner or later, he will get tired of your juvenile ways and throw you away in search of his next playmate.”

Harry rolls his eyes. “Whatever. Doesn’t matter that much to me.”

The rest of the drive is spent in an awkward silence. Harry plays around on his phone and when they arrive at some kind of an office space, he is quick to get off the car. He hurries to the room he’s been instructed to go to and is met the sight of Niall lounging in a chair, a cigar dangling between his lips.

“Know anything about this guy?” Harry shows his cell phone screen to Niall. His boss for the time being has just sent him an email with further information on his next target and even from the blurry picture, Harry can see that the man is handsome.

Harry cranes his neck around just in time to seen Niall’s face turn dark.

“Stay out of it,” Niall commands. He takes the cigar from his lips and puts it out.

Harry scowls. “The hell I will. This will be my biggest scope yet! The email says that he’s the Pakistani version of you! He is rumoured to be the one dealing with secret, illicit trades between some rebel groups in Pakistan and England!”

Niall grabs Harry’s wrist that is holding the camera. “First of all, he’s only half-Pakistani as his mum is British. Second of all, someone like me doesn’t respond well to being followed. Remember what happened when I caught you so easily?’ Niall smirks and Harry’s cheeks heat up. Of course he fucking remembers . . . he'd have to be an amnesiac to forget such an event.

“Shu-shut up,” he stammers. “I’ve learned my lesson from that time. It’s a good thing that both of you are gorgeous. Don’t think I’ll mind being punished by him all that much.”

He’s only joking, of course. His relationship with Niall started on a rocky base and it's still founded on that premise. But somewhere along the way, the way Niall treated him and how Harry kept craving Niall’s touches ended up with their relationship developing into something more. He doesn’t dare put a label on it because he still hates Niall half the time. Especially when Niall thinks of him as a kid who doesn’t know how to survive in the big bad world.

“Oh, is that how it is?” Niall muses. "What you’re doing is irrational, fueled only by money. You know that I can provide you with anything in the world as long as you promise to be mine. It’s a fruitless passion, all that journalist shite you do, and it could cost you your freedom someday.  It's more interesting if you live without tying yourself down to what society says you need and want.  A walk on the wild side, so to speak, doing whatever you want and taking revenge against anyone who doors to cross your path.”

Harry sticks his tongue out. “Doubt that's the kind of life I can be hapy with. One day, I will be shooting the cover of a prestigious magazine with Torrance Coombs.”

Niall shakes his head; Harry catches the look of fondness in Niall’s cold blue eyes nonetheless. “I could make that happen for ya. Pull in some favours and you’d be breathing the same air as him in no time.”

“For the right price, right?” Harry deadpans in his best Irish accent.

Laughing, Niall motions for Harry to come closer. “You know me. So will you make me a promise then? Don’t go near Zayn and I’ll see what I can do about you interviewing the cast of _Reign_.”

“Why do you care what happens to me though?”

“You’re full of questions,” Niall mutters, winding his arms around Harry’s waist as he sits in Niall’s lap. “It doesn’t matter. I find you interesting and once I latch on to something, I don’t like to share or let go of it.”

Harry finds himself laid out on the desk and he can’t help but add, ‘ _until I get tired of it’_ in his mind. No matter how he looks at it, he is still just a kid in the big bad world. With the kind of work that Niall does, he is bound to come across something that will pique his interest more than a persistent loud-mouthed brat.

It’s a sobering thought, and maybe that’s why he welcomes Niall’s touches even more tonight.

 

 

-

 

 

It’s rare that Niall calls Harry up first. What’s even rarer is for Niall to arrange for a dinner at the Four Seasons restaurant. Harry wonders if this is what being is like as he enters the hotel room that he was told to go to. The mattress comes up to his thighs and in the closet, a neat suit hangs, pressed to perfection. The tag reads Brioni and Harry’s heart nearly stops. It must have cost a fortune and he really needs to have a talk with Niall about spoiling him. It’s not his birthday nor any sort of momentous day and worry begins to set in in the recesses of Harry’s mind.

Harry is impressed by the perfect fit of the suit. Granted, he’s not used to the tight fit of it but he can’t deny that the silk of it feels nice against his skin. There are even shoes prepared for him. At precisely seven o’clock, he turns up at the restaurant.

But instead of the familiar blond, he sees someone with equally cold eyes but different altogether.

“Pleasure to meet you,” the man purrs. That’s one other trait that he shares with Niall then. “I’m Zayn Malik. From your expression, I suppose that you haven’t quite figured that out. And here I thought that you were after me for a photograph or two.”

Zayn’s accent is an endearing mix of Northern English and something else. Exotic is one way to sum him up. Malicious is another. Like a panther crouched to pounce.

“I mean no harm, Mr. Styles,” Zayn says with a smile. “Or do you prefer Harry?”

“Harry’s fine,” he murmurs. “How’d you call me from Niall’s number _and_ sound like him?”

Dark green eyes narrow. “We both have ways to get around petty things like mobile numbers and voices. But we aren’t here to discuss that. I’d much rather get to know you.”

A server comes up with wine and Zayn asks for her to leave the bottle. Zayn is generous with the amount that he pours into Harry’s glass. When Harry is wary of taking a sip, Zayn sighs. “I didn’t drug it, Harry. See?” He takes a massive gulp from his own glass. Harry studies him for a few minutes but nothing happens. Relieved, he sips from his own glass.

After they have ordered, Zayn gets straight down to business. “How did Niall even find you in the first place? I assume that it had something to do with your job. From what I’ve gathered, you tried to catch him red-handed but something rather degrading happened instead. Or perhaps that’s a wrong word to use.”

Harry glares at Zayn. “What happened between Niall and I is strictly our business. Why are you so interested in me anyway? Everyone keeps reminding me that I’m just a nosy brat so what’s your pitch?”

Zayn laughs, and it’s melodious as it is sinister. “Blunt, I like that. You are breaking every single Canadian stereotype that I had of you. It’s more fun this way, I reckon. I’ll keep it simple; in the past, Niall was renowned for getting tired of his toys after a week or so. All those pretty boys and girls strung up and strewn out like stale food; it was heartbreaking for them. Then you came along, love. A pretty young thing intent to expose Niall yet somehow that must be the selling point. Word has spread that the infallible Niall Horan has someone he treasures and you can imagine what kind of attention you’ve been garnering.”

Harry flinches when Zayn’s hand covers his own on the table. It’s warm but also constricting. There are multitude of rings on his fingers and they bite into Harry’s skin when Zayn tightens his grip for a second. “It’s got some of us thinking if it’s just that fit face of yours, a trophy to parade around in the company of rivals. Or,” Zayn leans in and whispers, “maybe it’s how good you are in bed.”

As if on cue, dizziness hits Harry like a tidal wave. No, this can’t be. They drank from the same bottle and Zayn is perfectly fine. Harry’s eyes dart to the wine glass and then it dawns on him. Fucking conniving low-life!

“Yes, I maybe put some invisible powder in your wine glass. I knew that you’d be cautious once you realized that it’s not a date with your dear Nialler so I had to get creative. Although, I would hardly call it being creative since there are so many other ways to make people compliant.”

Grey and black spots crowd Harry’s vision and he can vaguely feel it as Zayn helps him out of his seat and gives the server an excuse as they leave. Zayn is stronger than he looks, as he hoists Harry up into a bridal hold and carries him out.

“It’s only a mild sedative, so you don’t pass right out,” Zayn croons into his ear. They are now in the elevator and Harry sees that they are going to the top level. A quick memory with Niall when he was last on a rooftop flashes in Harry’s mind and he blushes at the recall. Only if this were the case.

Something loud pierces through the air when Zayn breaks through the door and walks onto the roof. It’s still some ways off and Harry wonders what it could be. He is almost at the edge of the building when the door slams open.

“Let him go, Malik,” Niall’s voice echoes in the otherwise silent night air. Wind has picked up and it’s making Niall’s unbuttoned jacket flail around him wildly.

“He’s such a pretty little thing,” Zayn stage-whispers into his ear. His eyes are trained onto Niall’s and Harry is scared. It’s all wrong. His voice doesn’t have the right accent or the right amount of arrogance to it. He’s caught between some old feud and he can’t predict how the hell this will end.  Zayn's fingers slide up and tighten around Harry's neck, ampliflying the feeling that his heart has jumped to hie neck.

“He’s mine,” Niall snarls. There is a faint click that reverberates in the air between them and Harry sees that Niall has got a gun out. He sends up a prayer that Niall is a good shot because Zayn has his body coiled around Harry’s like a snake with is prey and Harry wants to live.

Zayn laughs darkly and caresses Harry’s cheek. Cold tingles run down Harry’s spine and he redoubles his efforts to get the hell away from the guy. He aims a kick downwards but Zayn must have anticipated it since he blocks it with ease.

“Let him go,” Niall grits out.

“He _is_ more than a toy to you, isn’t he?” Zayn smirks.

Harry almost misses it. Zayn whips out a small gun from his shirt somewhere and shoots twice. Harry screams when he sees two red dots appear and bloom in Niall’s shoulder and thigh. Unfazed, Niall shoots his own gun and from the ground, Harry can only see the shocked expression on Zayn’s face before his vision is covered up with black.

“You’re coming with me, pretty boy,” Zayn hisses. The helicopter blades beat louder and louder until there is a distinct sensation of being lifted off the ground and flying.

Far away from Niall.

Maybe he is imagining it but Harry swears that he hears Niall’s voice call out his name.

 

 

-

 

 

Ever since the helicopter whisked Harry away, he has been held in a cell, with metal bars, multiple locks, the works. Three times so far, a man with blue eyes (the wrong shade of blue) comes down to bring him meals but that’s the extent of human interaction that he has gotten. Less than a day must have passed but to Harry, it feels like it’s been forever.

In his mind, the look on Niall’s face when he was shot keeps replaying, followed by the angered one that replaced it as soon as Zayn grabbed on to Harry as his men came to pick them up.

What is he doing here? He has no value, it’s not like Niall will come barging in to offer Zayn a large sum of money. From what he has gathered, Zayn is an underworld lord just like Niall. His hands are itching for his cameras, and he can’t help but imagine Niall’s scoffing face at his ‘fruitless passion’.

The metal bars of his cell clinks as it opens and a guard—all tanned skin and severe and expressionless in a suit—steps in. He jerks at Harry’s arm and pulls him up roughly, and Harry shakes of his hands.

“I can walk on my own,” he spits out. The guard regards him drolly before he prods at his back with the muzzle of a gun to get him walking.

Just from looking around the building outside of the basement area that Harry was kept in, it’s painfully obvious that he’s no longer in Canada. The architecture and decoration that surrounds him seems to be of Asian, South Asian to be specific, in origin and a knot forms in Harry’s throat.

The room that Harry is led to is huge, and Harry’s jaw drops open for a moment before he snaps it shut. The roof of the entire house seems to be domed and the curve of the ceiling in the room is weird but works with the lighting. The décor seems to be a mix of European and Asian arts, a large bed-like structure in the middle as well as a few plush couches. Zayn is lying on a sofa, and a woman is tending to his wounds. Zayn says something in a non-English language and the woman leaves the room after bowing to him.

“Why am I here?” Harry asks.

Zayn rolls his eyes. “How rude. Aren’t Canadians supposed to be polite and friendly?”

Harry strides up to him; perhaps stride is a generous word since his ankles and wrists are bound with handcuffs. “You kidnapped me and took me away to a whole different country. People don’t do that on a whim.”

“Hmm,” Zayn sits up and picks up an ornate goblet. Harry tries not to show his surprise because the freaking thing looks like it’s made out of gold. “You would make an excellent journalist as your skills of observation are quite minute. We’re in Pakistan, and it was tricky fly over the Pacific and to my father’s home country. I haven’t been here since I was a teenager and well, it was the only place I could think of that Niall wouldn’t search readily.”

“Am I the leverage then?” The words taste bitter coming out of Harry’s mouth. He knew that getting involved with Niall was a dangerous situation to begin with and now it has come to this.

“In a way, I suppose,” Zayn answers. “Come here.” He pets the space next to him on the couch and Harry shakes his head.

“Think again, pretty boy. I have loads of connections here as well. A pretty boy with a face like yours and a body so young and nubile sells well in the sex slave market. If you were to cross me and I sold you over to those filths, you’d be having sex with old men as a means of survival. And they have ways to make their playthings complacent and mindless. They get their toys so addicted to drugs so that the poor souls can’t even function with the abusive sex and the drugs. In a few months, it won’t be Niall that you would be craving; it would be those filthy drugs.”

Chills run down Harry’s spine. He doesn’t want that. Niall’s wedged his way into Harry’s heart with his barbs and acid and there’s no way that Harry is going to let that go without a fight.  It's frustrating and piteous but no one said that life was easy.

He takes a hesitant step towards Zayn, an action that garners him a twitch of Zayn’s lips. Zayn bends up his knees, a clear indication of what he wants Harry to do. He nearly gnaws off his bottom lip as he loosens Zayn’s pajama pants and curls his fingers around Zayn’s dick. It’s still soft but after a few quick strokes and teasing licks, it’s hard and pressing against Harry’s tongue. The weight and taste of it is tantalizing but it doesn’t take away the feeling of wrongness, how Harry wants it to be Niall instead.

Zayn heaves a sigh. “I thought Niall trained you well,” he pouts, not unlike a sulking child. “Stop thinking about him. Unless he’s got a suicidal mind, he won’t be barging into my turf. You don’t want me to send after him, yeah?”

“Like what you did to me wasn’t bad enough,” Harry snarls.

Zayn tangles his fingers into Harry’s hair and tugs harshly. “Just do your job. Remember what I told you?”

Harry obliges.

 

 

-

 

 

He doesn’t know how long it’s been. Days, weeks, months, it doesn’t make much difference to him.

In the duration of his stay, he has found out a few useful things about Zayn and his situation.  One is that Zayn's power is absolute in the mansion.  The day that he was first allowed out of his cell, he was ushered to a room where a man, visibly terrified, gave him a tattoo. The stupid tattoo of some scripture on his wrist has Zayn’s henchmen cowering in fear. Once, one of them men in suits started to beat him up. Harry fought back, of course, but the dude was twice his size and it was a losing fight. Then the guy who had been watching spotted the damn thing on Harry’s wrist and both of them paled, murmuring apologies in broken English.

Harry scratches at the tattoo, almost out of habit now. He has been summoned to Zayn’s room (which is hardly a room more than it is a chamber with his multiple rooms inside and a gigantic bathroom) and he’s wearing some kind of traditional Pakistani clothes and it’s made of something softer than silk.

Zayn is sat on a chair by an elaborate desk and he is half-dressed in pants that look similar to the ones Harry is wearing. His abdomen is still wrapped in gauze and bandages where Niall took a shot and the sight makes Harry cringe.

“I knew you’d look good in _shalvar qameez,_ ” Zayn comments upon appraisal.

“Why, am I gonna be a servant starting today?” Harry sneers.

Zayn’s dark amber eyes turn icy. “Careful, Harry. No matter how beautiful and cheeky you are, you have to remember that I’m the only one that’s keeping you from harm.” He gestures for Harry to sit on the bed, or charpoy as Zayn had told him once, and Harry complies.

A phone rings and Zayn picks it up. He speaks in rapid Urdu and Harry can tell from his tone that it’s serious stuff. Harry wonders if he can get away without the ‘retraining’ that Zayn has been doing with him all this time.

Zayn throws the phone away and Harry flinches. He draws up his knees and hugs them close to his chest in fear. Rapid breaths come out of Zayn’s slackened mouth and Harry wishes for the thousandth time that he was back home, basking in the sun at the Tsawwassen or at Buntzen Lake to cool off. It’s summer right now, if Harry has been keeping track of time correctly.  He would do anything for a chance to be back in Canada again, joking around with Liam and talking about stupid little things.

“Something the matter?” he squeaks out.

Zayn visibly fumes. “There’s a resort that I own by the sea and the deeds to it have been replaced by a counterfeit. I don’t know who is behind it and it’ll be a massive chore to figure it out.”

Just as Harry is about to offer a shoulder rub or something, Zayn’s personal phone rings.

“Hello?” Zayn says, having found his composure at a blinding speed.

From the way Zayn’s brown eyes turn cold again, Harry guesses that it’s more bad news.

“You’ve got quite the nerve,” Zayn hisses. “We shall see. . . . Oh, do you now? And what will I get out of it? . . . Fine, but you’d better be in the cruise ship when it departs.” He Harry he says, “He wants to talk to you.” He hands the phone over to Harry without further explanation.

“Harry,” says a painfully familiar voice. Tears well up in Harry’s eyes and he can’t stop them from pouring down his cheeks.

“N-Niall?” He can’t believe. Maybe Zayn did sell him to those nasty old geezers and he is hallucinating from drugs. “Why are you here?”

A long sighs sounds from the speaker. “If you don’t know, then perhaps I should have let you go. We’ll talk after the exchange happens. Until then, be smart and stay alive, yeah?”

“Yeah.” _I miss you_ , he adds in his head. The dial tone sounds and he drops the phone to the floor.

“He must value you a lot,” Zayn comments. “The resort is worth millions and he could have asked for literally anything from me. Yet the only thing he listed in his demands was your safe return. I’m starting to think that you’re more than a pretty face and an arse to shag.  Perhaps that heartless bastard finally found himself a heart.”

And with that, Zayn’s guards come into take Harry away.

 

 

-

 

 

Harry hates all the secrecy shit that’s insidious with the underground groups. He has been blindfolded as he boarded the cruise ship and now he is sitting in a cabin with three men guarding him. It’s not like he can escape anyway, with them being at least a hundred kilometres from the shore.

“Hey, Muscles,” he calls out to a guard. “I’m starved. Can we get something to eat, please?”

The guard grunts. He understands English, Harry knows from the twitch of his lips. He talks into the radio in hushed Urdu before he nods and the entire entourage spill out into the corridor.

On their way to the restaurant, Harry walks past a window that has a clear view of the grand dining hall. In the centre of it, Niall is sitting across from Zayn.

“Niall!” Harry wrenches himself away from the guards and flings himself at the window. He bangs his fists at it but no one looks up. He fights back the tears and resigns to being herded way like cattle.

They around a corner when gunshots ricochet in the narrow hallway. In a matter of seconds, two of the men are bleeding out on the floor whilst the other one is firing back. Harry throws himself to the ground and he hears the bullets whiz past the air above him. He must be covered with the blood from the others because the shooter just walks past him.

It’s risky and brainless, but Harry pushes himself off the ground and tackles his attacker. The man is quick and strong, and Harry just barely manages to wrest the gun away from him.

“You gonna shoot it then?” the man sneers. His fingers are on Harry’s throat and before Harry realizes, he is lying on his back with fingers slowly tightening around his airway. “Go ahead. I’m not gonna stop either way. Either you’re dead by my hand or _he_ will kill me. It don’t matter.”

He shouldn’t have, he really shouldn’t have. But Harry has it up to the top of his head. He is sick and fucking tired of people deciding his life for him. He can’t take it anymore.

So he aims the barrel at the man’s face and pulls the trigger. Thick, hot blood spurts over his face and he chokes at the pungent smell of it. He can’t just lie there and dwell in the aftermath, though. He has to find Niall and get the hell out of here. If there are people targeting him, surely Niall is a target as well.

He sprints down the corridor, nearly slipping from the blood that is coating the soles of his feet. He ignores the emergency exit sign and sets off all the alarms as he hurries down the staircase. The ship is so large, however, and he somehow ends up on the deck instead.

“You are so troublesome,” someone utters and Harry whips around. It’s someone that he hasn’t met before, but he shares the cold and otherwise expressionless look with Niall and Zayn. “I thought that you’d look cuter in person but I don’t think so. How you have both of them wrapped around your finger is beyond me.”

“Who are you?” Harry raises the gun.

The man raises his hands as if in surrender. “Whoa, slow down, big boy. I’m only here to escort you safely back to Niall. You don’t know me because I’m a recent recruit of Niall’s. They are wrapping up their meeting in the dining hall so all you have to do is follow me.”

Harry clenches his jaw. “No. No more of ordering me around. I can’t put my trust in anyone, especially guys who work hidden away from the light of day and justice. My job is to expose you all with the lens of my camera, not play along with your demands.” He steadies his aim and despite his brave words, his heart is pounding million miles a minute and his hands won’t quite shaking.

“It’s understandable that you’re scared,” the stranger coos. Harry hates it when people talk down to him. “And you’re rather clever _and_ pig-headed, not following order from me.”

Out of nowhere, the man points a gun at Harry and Harry fires first. He misses but his opponent shoots back. But after the first shot and a white-hot pain that spreads in Harry’s shoulder, nothing else happens. He passes out from the shock and he thinks that he sees a figure emerge from behind the second attacker.

When he comes around, a familiar face is gazing down upon him. Harry’s head is in the man’s lap and when he tries to sit up, his shoulder flares up with pain.

“Let’s go home,” Niall whispers, like it’s only the two of them. The man is lying face-down on the ground a little ways off and Harry can feel the tears coming again. Damn it, he has become such a softie since all of this has happened.

“What about the deed?” he mumbles as Niall engulfs him into a hug carefully. “And why does my shoulder hurt?”

“It’s all taken care of,” Zayn answers instead at the same time Niall mutters angrily, “The bullet grazed it.”

“You are free to go.” There is chatter from Zayn’s men and Harry can tell that they aren’t happy about letting him go. Zayn snaps a command in Urdu and they shut up.

“Thank you,” Harry says, peeking out from under Niall’s arm.

“Remember what I’ve said,” Zayn mutters and Niall scowls. Niall picks Harry up with ease and they climb onto a small yacht.

As soon as they are within the privacy of Niall’s private cabin—after patching up Harry’s shoulder—Harry digs his fingers into the silky shirtfront. “Why didn’t you come sooner?” he practically wails, tears unstoppable. “I was . . . I was waiting for you! I wanted it to you to come save me in a few days, weeks at most. You made me wait for too long and I thought you died or something.”

Niall sighs and kisses the top of Harry’s hair. “I’m sorry, Harry. You knew that I’d come for you, yeah?”

“I’d have never forgiven you if you didn’t,” Harry pounds his fists into Niall’s chest, but there’s no real strength behind them. “Take responsibility; you dragged me into the mess of your world . . . .”

He trails off only because he felt wetness underneath the bandages around Niall’s shoulder. Slowly and carefully, he unwraps the cloth and sees that some blood has seeped out of the bullet wound of Niall’s own.

“Don’t toss my heart around anymore than this,” Niall murmurs, lips still pressed to Harry’s hair. “I can’t handle it.”

Harry breathes in Niall’s scent. It’s that of a cologne with subtle but distinctive fragrance that Niall always wears. He can’t believe that he is in the arms of a man who has his heart in a precarious position. Maybe the bullet killed him and this is some twisted post-mortem imagination.

On one hand, he has this urgent need to tend to Niall’s wounds because he hates that he is basically the cause for it reopening. But on the other hand, it’s been months since he last felt Niall’s body against his own and well, he’s only human and a man with rampant hormones.

“You’re not dead and neither am I. This is real.” Niall entwines his hand with Harry’s and places it above Harry’s. The heart underneath the skin is beating wildly and the inside of Harry’s mouth goes dry. “Or shall I prove it to you some other way?”

Harry doesn’t move or say anything. He doesn’t want to break whatever spell has been cast around him.

“Fine then.” Niall throws him down to the bed and crawls up over him. His lips are unrelenting as they rain kisses after kisses upon Niall’s body. Sometimes, he nips and sucks on various spots all over Harry’s body and he knows that the marks are going to show up tomorrow morning when he looks.

It’s almost cruel, the way Niall takes more than necessary time to get Harry ready, opening him up slowly while muttering sweet nothings. Time has ceased to exist and when Niall finally enters him, he knows that none of this is an illusion. It’s real and Niall has come to save Harry.

To take him home.

 

 

-

 

 

“You’re so spoiled,” Harry grouses as he readjusts the sunglasses on the bridge of his nose.

Niall smiles fondly. He is sipping something from a pineapple and he says something to the server, who walks away with a knowing smile. “It’s for your own good as well.”

“What good is staying in Jeju Island gonna do for me? I’m wasting valuable time as is. Nick and Liam must be worried sick about me! I can’t just sit back idly whilst there must be thousands of scoops waiting for me to uncover them.

Niall grimaces as he sits up, and Harry’s frustration melts away. After their getaway from Zayn, they boated over to India, where Niall hired a private plane to South Korea. Before Harry knew it, three days at the penthouse suite at some prestigious resort hotel at Jeju passed by.

His wrist where they burned off the tattoo with laser is still tender but that hasn’t kept Harry from swimming around either at the beach or the pool. He has gotten lots of attention from the locals as a foreigner and a few have even talked to him. He likes that the people are so friendly. Despite that, he longs for home. If it were up to him, he would have gotten on the first flight home and had a tearful reunion with Liam and Grimmy. Sadly, as things are, he is without a passport and he doesn’t exactly have the documents to make one either.

“Didn’t you enjoy the spa treatment the other day?’ Niall smirks.

Harry motions for a nearby server for a drink. He picks out the coconut one and it tastes like piña colada and he hums at the sweetness. “That’s different matter. I charged it to your account, by the way.”

Niall sits up and Harry jogs over. “Nope, nope. You’re not allowed to move around much. I’d hate to see your wound get infected and all gross. Don’t think you’ll look quite as hot minus one arm.”

The blond smirks. “Just take a seat, will ya?” As if on cue, a server comes in with a tray full of sweet smelling things. “This is the same spa treatment that you got yesterday. I want you to do this for me.”

Harry blushes. “We’re in public!” he protests. When there’s rustling sounds, he looks up and sees that the section of the pool with them has been partitioned off.

“All taken care of.”

“I’m not an aesthetician,” Harry rebuffs.

Niall waves a piece of paper. “The instructions are written here in English. Also, I have this.”

Harry’s eyes train onto a small booklet. It’s a passport! He reaches for it instinctively and Niall, the bastard, snatches it away. The chaise is placed close to the water and Niall dangles it over water. “Why don’t you be a good boy for once and do me this one tiny favour in exchange for another?”

“Fine,” Harry acquiesces. “But we’re going home as soon as the tattoo removal spot heals up like you promised. Deal?”

Niall smirks. “Deal.”

Looking too smug, Niall takes off his shirt and Harry has to keep his drooling in check. Niall isn’t overly muscular but he’s still got a nice body to gawp over. His abdomen is defined in the most delicious ways and despite the week that they have spent in the sub-tropical weather, Niall’s skin hasn’t tanned half as much as Harry’s has.

He scoops up some of the honey-scented oil and spreads it on his hands. The instructions say to start up on the neck and work downward so Harry complies. He presses his thumbs into the hollows and has to focus on not getting hard when Niall lets out a filthy moan. It has to be on purpose because Niall moans occasionally as Harry moves onto other body parts. When he reaches the hem of Niall’s swimming trunks, Niall cranes his neck around and smiles. “Wanna do my front too?”

“S-sure?”

Harry kneels up, giving enough space for Niall to flip over. He wasn’t expecting for Niall to pull him down roughly. The motion causes for Harry’s bum to sit over Niall’s groin and his dick gives an excited twitch when he feels that Niall is half-hard as well.

“I think this is some sort of sangria,” Niall comments as he dips his fingers into some reddish liquid garnished with grapefruit. He sneaks his hand down the back of Harry’s shorts and rubs his fingertips against Harry’s hole. The liquid is cold and Niall slips a finger inside as Harry gasps. They’ve been fucking on a regular basis since the impromptu vacation started, so it doesn’t take long for the fingers to multiply to three.

Whatever alcohol is in the thing is enough to make Harry’s head feel light. He doesn’t remember the specific details but he is sure that at one point, Niall has him pinned against the wall, the other time sprawled out on the edge of the pool.

Either way, it’s an unforgettable fortnight for Harry.

 

 

-

 

 

Harry can’t keep his jaw shut when he returns to his flat. Everything has been cleared out and the only object in sight is a key and an address. The fucking nerve!

So he calls up one of Niall’s minions again and this time, he goes to this new address. The gate—who even has a fucking gate to their house?—opens when he states his name and the front door opens easily with the key that he was given. Niall must have been expecting him since he is lounging in the drawing room, smoking a fancy little cigar.

“You can’t go around moving someone else’s stuff into your house without their permission!” Harry fumes.

Niall slowly turns his chair around. His blond hair isn’t slicked back like usual and he is wearing glasses. “So you managed to figure out that the key is for my house. Your landlord kicked you out since you had been gone for months and I was the only one who prevented him from dumping all of you possessions—including your cameras—to the nearest landfill. I think you should be thanking me.”

Harry strides forwards and shoves at Niall’s shoulder. “Don’t assume that I’ll throw myself right back into your arms. I got shot at, shot a fucking gun, and let’s not forget that I was held captive for seven months because of you. Should I remind you that Zayn used me as a sex toy, literally that and nothing else.” _And I missed you the whole time,_ he adds in his head. _It was all wrong, every touch he forced upon me, every kiss and every word he whispered into my ear. They were all wrong._

Niall sighs. He takes off his glasses and rubs the bridge of his nose. “Harry,” he’s using that solemn voice, the one Harry has heard him use with his underlings. “Are you really that daft? You think that I would go halfway around the world just for anyone? There are only a handful of people who I’d do that for and I don’t like taking risks like that. For once, listen to what I say and care for your own safety. We both know what happened the last time you went against my wishes.”

“Whatever,” Harry storms out of the house. He knows that Liam will take him in even though he might be making some lovey-dovey plans with his friends. The driver takes him to Liam’s apartment and Harry swears that he gets a pitying glance from the man.

 

 

-

 

 

After about a week, Harry’s conscience and need to be with his cameras wins out. Niall, being the world-class jerk that he is, locked up his cameras in a safe and there is no way that Harry can get in it without doing some favours.

Which is exactly how Harry ended up living at Niall’s house as sort of a live-in maid.

 _At least he didn’t make me wear a ridiculous uniform,_ he thinks in relief. The house is in impeccable order and there’s not much that Harry needs to do around the clock.  The view is great and he can pretty much see Kitsilano from the bedroom he is using for the moment. He just has to prepare meals for when Niall’s there and have sex with him if the mood strikes him. The latter is quite enjoyable so Harry isn’t complaining. Not so much.

 

“You can move out once you’ve enough money to get your own place,” Niall informed him one night after too many rounds of sex. Harry was halfway conked out so Niall had to repeat himself.

“Well, I could if you didn’t tell me to reject all of my recent assignments. I can handle a corrupt politician or two by myself, you know.”

Niall sighed. “I’m not doubting your abilities. It’s those amoral bastards that I don’t trust.”

Harry scoffed. “Says the man that controls the black market half of Canada and Europe. Isn’t that why you stopped me from going after that stalker case? Because he had some dirt on you?”

Instead of an answer, Niall leant over and ruffled up Harry’s sweat-soaked curls. “Your hair’s getting longer,” he commented offhandedly.

Harry ran his fingers through his hair. “What about it?”

Niall’s always got that business man look pat-down, blond hair bleached periodically so that the roots hardly show and the front parts gelled back with a few strands hanging in front of his celestial blue eyes. “I like it that way. Gives me more stuff to play with too.”

“You’re a filthy old man,” Harry grumbled and closed his eyes. He could have sworn that he felt Niall wind a strand of Harry’s hair around his finger and kiss it.

 

 _What am I to him? What are we?_ Harry asks himself as the memory resurfaces.

Harry shakes his head. Clearly they aren’t simply fuck buddies. Ever since the kidnapping incident, Niall has grown more possessive and caring in his own way. Maybe it _is_ a good idea for him to stay at Niall’s place where he will be guaranteed some safety.

He shakes his head again. Is it too late to admit it, even to himself?

The question bugs him throughout the afternoon so he calls Liam when he knows Liam’s lectures have ended.

“Liam,” he blurts out the second Liam picks up, “I’m in love with a criminal.”

There’s a loud sigh over the phone. “And you rang me to ask if it’s not rational, that it’s physical?”

Harry glowers. “I’m gonna punch you when I see you next. Don’t go Britney on me. Speaking of what happened to her? Is she married again?”

“Don’t change the subject on me, Styles. I wouldn’t say that it’s wholly physical. He did risk his life rescuing your ass in Pakistan,” Liam points out.

“I—well he had his own personal reasons for that as well, didn’t he? He still has that age-old feud going on with Zayn so maybe he just wanted to one-up him.”

“Or he loves you.”

Harry laughs. “That self-serving low-life? He sees me as a hole he can fuck whenever he pleases, maybe a twisted version of a friend at best.”

Liam hums. “Dunno mate, but it sound like you are in denial.”

“Wait,” he hisses into the phone. “You’re—bre—connec—bye.”

As soon as he hangs up, he is greeted by angry texts from Liam, or as angry as his teddy bear of a friend gets.

“I’m home,” Niall announces from the front door. Harry shoves his phone into his pocket and throws on the nearest apron, which just happens to be one with a half-naked man’s muscular chest print. Niall’s eyes look him up and down, specifically the apron, but he doesn’t comment on it.

“Dinner’s almost ready,” Harry says with a smile. “Just gotta cook the salmon.”

He starts up the stove and waits for the frying pan to heat up. He is just about to place the salmon on the pan when Niall moves up behind him.

“What are you up to?” Harry asks when Niall wraps his arms around Harry, pulling him away from the stove slightly.

“I don’t think I’m hungry yet,” Niall purrs into his ear. His lips move down to suck on the nape and Harry moans when Niall clamps his teeth down slightly.

“Y-yeah?” It’s nearly impossible to speak normally when Niall is too expert at riling him up.

A slightly cool hand slips inside of Harry’s sweatpants and curls around his dick. Niall foregoes the teasing for tonight and thumbs the slit, all the while rocking his hips against Harry’s bum. Another hand reaches out to turn off the stove.

“Someone’s impatient tonight,” Harry cajoles. He glances over his shoulder and wishes that he hadn’t said it.

“Is that how it is?” Niall taunts, one eyebrow raised. He stops touching Harry and literally tears all the clothes off of Harry. Harry isn’t sure what to expect, especially when Niall scoops him up and sets him down on the dining table.

“Hey, this is unsanitary!” Harry complains, but his words are soon lost in Niall’s mouth as he kisses him forcefully. Harry has always been a sucker for someone who could manhandle him and Niall fits the bill quite perfectly.

“Then you can clean it later,” Niall grunts, packets of lube and condom in his hand already. Honestly, Harry can’t even feign a surprise at that.

Niall seems to be in a teasing mood, as he takes maybe half an hour licking all over Harry’s torso, paying special attention to his nipples and happy trail. It drives Harry crazy when Niall takes the small tufts of hair between his teeth and tugs, sending coils of warmth straight to Harry’s cock. Niall can be cruel when he wants to be and his utter neglect of Harry’s erection rivals any torture known to men.

“Hurry,” Harry gasps when Niall traces the curve of his butt with his hands. The table has warmed up under his body but it’s still too hard against his back.

“You shoulda thought of that before you incurred my tenacity,” Niall murmurs, nipping at the juncture of Harry’s thigh and hip. He sucks on the spot for a good minute or two to ensure that a mark will stay.

“Bastard,” Harry retorts. He plucks the lube from Niall’s fingers and tears it open. Niall’s pupils widen as he watches Harry spread the lube on his fingers and push one inside, still maintain the annoyingly aloof expression. Niall is too good at foreplay and loosening up Harry’s body, and Harry finds himself with three fingers moving inside of himself in no time.

“Your body tells a different story,” Niall smirks, hand coming around to hold Harry’s cock loosely.

“Then get along with the plot!” Harry snaps.

Niall chuckles as he grabs Harry’s wrist and shoves his fingers deeper inside. “Soon, my little dove.”

Harry grumbles, “Stop with the _Game of Thrones_ reference, it’s creeping me out.”

His hand is released and Harry takes it as his cue to pull out his fingers. Niall doesn’t answer him—apart from an eyebrow raise—as he puts the condom on and drives inside of Harry in a smooth motion. He waits for Harry to adjust once he bottoms out and he chooses to pass time by kissing, sucking, and nibbling on Harry’s nipples.

“St-stop it,” Harry whines, pushing Niall’s head away. “’M gonna come too soon again if you keep that up.”

Blue eyes glint up at him and Harry gulps. Maybe he shouldn’t have reminded Niall of that time when he made Harry come with just fingers in his ass and constant teasing on his nipples, all four of them.

“As much as I would love a repeat,” Niall smirks, accentuating his words with a sharp bite to Harry’s nipple, “I’m also in an impatient mood tonight.”

And if Harry ends up having to remake their dinner from scratch, the blame is on Niall.

 

 

-

 

 

“Ugh, again?” Liam snaps when Harry’s phone rings for the fourth time in the last five minutes.

Harry shrugs. “Nick has been gathering up the intel on my next assignment and I need it before I go tonight.”

Liam pouts and his avatar on the screen deals a critical blow to Harry’s. Harry makes a mental note to never challenge Liam on Halo ever again. “I should have just gone to Sophia’s tonight. It would have been a lot more relaxing.”

“Sure it would’ve been,” Harry snickers.

“Testy, someone’s not been getting laid,” Liam singsongs.

“Excuse you, I’ve been seeing Niall regularly lately, seeing that we fucking live together,” Harry fumes. “It’s a good thing that he’s out for most of the day because I can’t imagine having him around 24/7. His libido is worse than a teenager’s.”

Liam ruffles Harry’s hair, and subsequently kills of Harry’s character. “You would know, wouldn’t you?”

“I’m not _that_ young,” Harry rebuts.

“Compared to his thirty-something years, you must look like a fetus.”

“Do not,” Harry pouts back.

His phone chimes again and it contains the last piece of information that Harry needs. He is supposed to be tracking down some illegal transactions that are supposedly happening at a renowned club on Robson so he guesses the jobs has its perks. Nick has even allowed him to use the company’s credit card ‘for appropriate measures’ and Harry will be damned if he doesn’t take advantage of this.

After a grumpy goodbye with Liam, he gets one of Niall’s goons to take him to Robson. With the time being past eight, the streets are alive with people Harry’s age in various states of dress (or undress in case of some chicks. He really doesn’t understand women’s fashion.) He receives quite a few curious looks from men and women alike, and he partially blames the see-through shirt he chose to put on. In his defense, he was going for the Matt Healy vibe.

The club in question has throngs of people lined up, which was to be expected. Thanks to Nick, he presents a VIP membership card to the bouncer and gets waved in quickly.

The interior is rather standard, dark purple wallpapers accented with the odd electronic lamps and with the strobe light filling up the dance floor every few seconds. Harry makes a beeline for the bar and flirts up a storm with the cute bartender. He downs two shots of tonight’s special and starts looking around for any hidden rooms. For tonight, he has equipped himself with a micro-camera that looks like a button on his shirt and all he has to do is press the fake gemstone on his ring to snap some pictures.

Surprisingly, the night is enjoyable. People keep buying him drinks every time he flashes his dimples and he already has enough evidence to at least make the authorities question the true purpose of the club and reinvestigate it. About ten minutes ago, he managed to get into one of the secret meeting rooms and got detailed photos of people exchanging money and drugs.

Just as he is about to sneak away to the bathroom, a pair of hands grabs his neck and one hand travels to cover his nose. Someone else punches his guts and Harry crumples to the floor, coughing violently. The hand around his nose doesn’t relent and instead tightens even more, cutting off his air.

The last thought that’s coherent in Harry’s mind is that he really needs to talk about his hazard pay with Nick. Then he passes out.

 

 

-

 

 

He opens his eyes to a bright and garish room, surrounded by people wearing suits and sunglasses. The brunet he saw with Niall ages ago is one of them.

“Sorry my guys roughed you up,” Louis says and Harry only narrows his eyes even more. “We take the privacy of our clients very simply, which is why I deleted all the photos from your camera.”

The man continues to stare at him and Harry holds Louis’ gaze, well as best as he can with the gauze over his eyebrow blocking a part of his vision. He must have hit a sharp corner when he went down.

“Name’s Louis, by the way. I suppose you can call me Niall’s right-hand man. Or left hand, since he is left-handed after all.”

“I’m not here to listen to your bland jokes,” Harry rasps, throat still raw from the earlier treatment.

Louis’ expression turns icy in a heartbeat. A part of Harry’s mind wonders if all the members of underground gangs go through training to perfect that skill.

“Listen up,” Louis growls, grabbing Harry’s chin none too gently and snapping his face up. “Niall doesn’t need a young thing like you trailing after him. At first I thought that Niall was just using you for sex, since you have the face and body that he tends to like after all. But when he fucking risked his neck to save your sorry ass from Malik, I realized that maybe it’s something beyond that. That’s when it first occurred to me that there’s something fucked up in both of you.

“You are either too strong-headed or naïve to have stayed with Niall,” Louis muses. “I mean, even someone like you must have realized that your journalist bullshit gets in the way of Niall’s business a lot. The more you get involved with the cases in the underground society, the more you will put Niall’s future in jeopardy. Just the other week with the stalker creep, he could have damaged Niall’s reputation beyond repair if we hadn’t responded quickly.”

Louis crouches and Harry sees that Louis is holding up two things in his hand. On one hand, he is holding Harry’s miniature camera and on the other, the key to Niall’s house.

“It’s simple,” Louis smirks. “You can either man up and follow your dreams to be whatever it is that journalists wanna do or you can stay in Niall’s bed until he gets bored of you and gets himself a new toy. You can’t have both.”

Harry gulps. He notices that his arms have been outstretched, reaching for both the camera and the key. He needs both, and it’s so cruel of Louis to demand that he pick just one.

Laughter bubbles out of him. Louis’ eyes turn even icier and narrow on Harry.

“What’s so funny?” he snarls, snatching up Harry’s shirtfront and shaking him.

“I am tired of people thinking that they can order me around. People who think that I’m a young thing who doesn’t know how this world works. I am not going to pick just one. Somehow, Niall ended up having an equal place in my heart as photography so go ahead and throw them out if you’d like. Niall and I will always find a way back to each other and I have other cameras back home. Your lover scorned tantrum is getting old anyways.”

Louis slaps him across the face and presses a pill inside of Harry’s mouth. With the water that Louis pours into Harry’s mouth, it’s impossible not to swallow and for the second time today, Harry’s consciousness fades away.

 

 

-

 

 

Harry wakes to the sound of soft jazz in the background and a dimly lit ceiling. When Harry cranes his neck to his side, he spots Niall perched on the edge of the bed. Nothing in the room is familiar and Harry wants to ask Niall where the hell they are.

“We have got to stop meeting like this,” Niall quips without even looking at Harry.

“Shut up,” Harry grumbles. He knee-walks to Niall buries his face in the soft fabric of Niall’s shirt. Niall smells heavily of cigars, as though he’s been chain-smoking nonstop for the past few hours. “You worried about me?”

“As if.” The song in the background transitions to “Fly Me To The Moon” and this all would have been romantic if the thing with Louis didn’t happen. “I don’t like to share, is all.”

The conversation that Harry had with Liam the other day resurfaces in Harry’s mind. He clings to Niall’s back and sucks a mark onto the side of his neck, a tiny revenge for all those times that Harry had to turn up to work or a guys’ night with numerous love bites.

“Louis said something about us,” Harry mumbles into the soft skin of Niall’s neck.

“Did he now?” Harry can hear the smirk in his voice.

“Said that I should fuck off since my job threatens your anonymity or some shit like that. Why haven’t you said anything like that to me?”

Niall turns around with a sigh. His hand comes up to caress Harry’s cheek and he slaps it away. “If any of your assignments posed a real threat to me, I would have gone away. You really are dense sometimes. I went to Pakistan because I wanted you back. I took your stuff because I wanted you to stay with me. Haven’t you wondered about the reasons behind my actions regarding you?”

“I . . .” Harry trails off, unable to answer with Niall’s blue eyes burning into him.

“Perhaps it’s love that keeps us bound together through inexplicable events,” Niall whispers. Niall’s hand trails up until it reaches Harry’s wrist and he pins Harry’s wrists together singlehandedly. “I used to think that it was a petty emotion, something that weighed you down and became a weakness that you had to protect. That whole incident with Zayn reminded me of those times when I had yet to learn that lesson. Then you came along.”

Harry knows that he’ll never hear Niall say those words.

So he says them instead.

“I love you. Or at least I think that I do. If I’m not, then the next best bet is that I’m crazy. Who wants to shack up with a crime lord and voluntarily put a target on his back?”

“Ah,” Niall hums, bringing Harry’s hands close to his lips. “The naked truth right there. Tell me,” Niall nips at Harry’s fingertips. “Would you give me up like Louis suggested? He is a bit of a jilted lover, or victim of unrequited love is more accurate. I tried to discourage him but he stayed with me out of camaraderie, I reckon. His own little tragic story.”

“I’m done with letting other people decide what’s best for me,” Harry scoffs. “Especially coming from criminals. You have the lawful citizen cover-up but on the inside, you are rotten just like my assignments.”

“Then why have you come to love me?” Niall deadpans.

Harry pushes back, and surprises himself by toppling Niall over to the bed. “Can’t explain how a heart works, can I?”

Niall chuckles. “That’s one way of looking at it.” He draws his knee up and grinds it against Harry’s crotch. “Could be just physical, y’know. Something that your body craves and those hormones can be misinterpreted as love.”

“Whatever,” Harry grinds out. As always, his body is quick to respond to Niall’s advances and he feels like a pre-teen all over again, waking up to wet boxers and remnants of horniness.

“Did you know,” Niall asks as he flips them over and manoeuvres Harry so that he is on his hands and knees, breaths fanning over Harry’s ass, “that being in love is the same as being addicted to a potent drug like cocaine or methamphetamine? Over time, your body and brain get used to the presence of your partner and that’s why it hurts physically after a breakup. Your body wants that person’s pheromones and physical presence but it’s not available anymore, similar to an addict trying to go cold-turkey overnight.” He nips at the skin close to Harry’s hole before he soothes it with his tongue. "It's supposed to hurt physically, not just emotionally."

“Your sudden talk of love and theories around it is scaring me,” Harry admits.

Niall slaps his butt. “I’m just saying,” Niall drawls.

Coherent thoughts are an overload whenever Niall has his mouth down there, and tonight isn’t an exception. Niall’s skilled touches wash away the foul taste of Louis’ words and soon, Harry has all but forgotten what happened earlier by the time Niall is teasing at his entrance with the blunt head of his cock.

“You’re so mean,” Harry pants, stupid Niall and his tricks with his fingers.

“Like you’re in a position to complain,” Niall jeers. “See?” He mops up the drool of precome from Harry’s dick and holds it up for Harry to see. Harry squeezes his eyes shut, but not before he witnesses Niall suck on them like the lecherous bastard he is.

“You missed me when you were away, yeah?” Niall’s voice tickles the shell of Harry’s ear. “Did you wish that it was my hands on you instead of Zayn’s?” Niall’s hips still in place and Harry whines, pushing back for more of that delicious friction. “Or were you happy enough with your new playmate?”

“I—you’re a douche, you know that?” Harry snaps. “Of course I missed you. Zayn’s pretty to look at but that doesn’t change the fact that he kidnapped me and flew me across an ocean over a petty fight with you!”

Niall pulls out nearly all the way and slams back inside, causing Harry’s entire body to jolt forwards. “I wouldn’t say it’s petty,” Niall corrects. “You could say that I’m the reason why he lacks a heart now.”

Chills tingle down Harry’s spine. “You’re quite talented at that, aren’t you? Ripping people’s hearts out beneath their notice and returning them in jagged pieces?”

His head is wrenched back and Niall kisses him deeply, stealing what little breath he had in him along with the last remaining intelligible thoughts. “Afraid that the same will happen to you?”

Harry grinds his teeth. “The hell I am.”

“Good,” Niall picks up the pace again. “Because I don’t plan on letting you go.  I want me to be everything to you so that nothing or no one can take you away from me.  You're _mine._ ”

 

 

-

 

 

“Excellent work as usual,” Nick praises as he clicks through the photos that Harry has just submitted. “Sometimes I wonder if you’re one of these underground criminals yourself.”

Harry beams. “’Course not. I’m lucky, that’s all.”

“Lucky in more than one ways, apparently. Don’t think that I haven’t noticed the strange gait some days. Who’s the unlucky man?”

“You’ll never find that out,” Harry answers with a wink.

Nick shakes his head. “Whatever. On to your next assignment, then. What do you say about a trip to dear old Montréal?”

 

A couple hours later, Harry steps off the small plane. It’s warmer here and he can’t wait until his job is done so he can go hit all the tourist traps.

As he is waiting for his bags to show up at the baggage claim, someone bumps into him. He turns around to swear his ears off but stops when he looks up.

“ _Bonsoir_ , _mon cher_ ,” Niall purrs.

“How’d you—” His words are lost as Niall picks him up and kisses him. In front of no less than twenty people. He shoves at Niall’s shoulders in a futile attempt and soon gives into Niall’s antics. There’s always ways to get back to him. . . .

“You still underestimate my limitations, how cute,” Niall smirks as he sets Harry down with a kiss on his nose. “I wasn’t about to let you go trudging all over the dark alleyways of Québéc. Plus, I haven’t been here in years so thought it would be a nice little hols for me.”

“Weirdo,” Harry grouses, but he follows Niall out to the exit anyway. “What about our bags?”

“My men took care of that already.” Niall holds his hand out. “Shall we then?”

Harry takes the hand. He knows that he won't drop it even if his life is on the line.

**Author's Note:**

> The fact that AO3 has 'roof sex' tage cracked me up as I was tagging this story.


End file.
